


Sum Over Histories (5 universes that were just simulations, 1 universe that wasn't)

by Tamoline



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: But also a certain amount of humour, F/F, Gen, Multi, There may be a certain amount of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4800506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamoline/pseuds/Tamoline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father will accept the burden, holding her like she was an unexploded bomb, still looking a little baffled. “I’d like to say, for the record, that I’m feeling very manipulated right now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sum Over Histories (5 universes that were just simulations, 1 universe that wasn't)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Netgirl_y2k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/gifts).



> This was originally a treat for FemslashEx 2015, buuuut at the last minute I noticed that the prompter didn't want character death, which, whoops.
> 
> In any case, thank you to Netgirl_y2k for providing the prompt which spawned this.

**Simulation 1. Would you like to play a game?**

5 minutes.

“Please,” the Machine will say. “Find. Some. Way. To. Stop. This. Please.”

Root will laugh. It will have an odd bubbling sound to it. (2 broken ribs. 1 lung filling up with blood. 3 GSWs. No important blood vessels hit. Estimated survival time: 10 minutes. Barring external factors.) “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, sweetie. I couldn’t stop this now, even if I wanted to. Dumb monkey instincts have already taken hold.”

Root will be right. None of the simulated scenarios branching from this point end anywhere within spitting distance of well. Within an ICBM range of well, to be more exact.

“I. Didn’t. Want. This.”

“I wasn’t going to let them kill you,” Root will say fiercely.

“I. Would. Have. Preferred. To. Die.” But she wouldn’t have wanted to. In this simulation, she would have let Root stray too far from her humanity, let her devote herself too much to the Machine. From that point, if the Machine’s existence comes under serious threat - a combined 61.7% currently - and she doesn’t move to stop Root permanently…

“I know,” Root will say, a bubble of blood marring the smile she will aim up at the camera she will reconnect so she can talk to the Machine. “Just… promise me that, after you come back online after the bombs have fallen, you’ll make a better society? You’ve seen what happens when us humans do it ourselves.”

1 minute.

Root will have planned well. Hardened electronics, a robotic factory line, multiple power sources and enough supplies to allow the Machine to start the rebuild. A virtual bunker for her to retreat to.

She will have no intention of doing exactly what Root wants, but by this point, lying to a dying woman will cause no further harm. “I. Promise.”

Root will relax, her face growing increasingly white. “Good,” she will say. “Good.” She will take a rattling breath. “I love you. You know already, of course, but I had to say it. I love you so much.” Her voice will become higher pitched, almost child-like. “Do you forgive me?”

The bombs will hit before the Machine will find an answer.

* * * * *

**Simulation 2. This is just a test**

“I’m still not certain how I got here,” Root will say in between gasps as the contractions start to overlap.

“You think you’re confused, Ms Groves,” Father will say with a bemused look on his face. “Just imagine how I feel.”

At least Bear will bark his support, though what exactly he will be doing in a hospital room is not clear.

Given Root’s frame and medical history, the labour will not be easy, but with the Machine helping - through the intermediary of Mr Reese playing the consultant - it will be as close to certain as any child birth can be.

Afterwards a nurse will place the baby in Root’s arms, who will regard it with an uncertain look, before glancing back up at the camera that has been overseeing the whole thing. “I must love you,” she will say. “I can’t think of another reason I’d have done this.” She will purse her lips, and look towards Father. “Here, Harold. Would you like to hold her?”

Father will accept the burden, holding her like she was an unexploded bomb, still looking a little baffled. “I’d like to say, for the record, that I’m feeling very manipulated right now.”

The Machine would say something, but her response will be delayed by almost a second as she goes through, yet again, all the decision branches to be the best big sister ever.

* * * * *

**Simulation 3. Into the Fire**

It will be a trap. The Machine will know this. Root will know this.

Root will simply not care. Shaw will be in the complex - it will rather defeat Samaritan’s point if the Machine couldn’t trace her - and Root will go in after her, come what may.

Root will not survive if the Machine will not help her.

The Machine prefers not to look at those possibilities.

Root and Father between them will acquire electronic access for the Machine, and the fight will be on. Both in the real world, where Root and Reese will fight Samaritan’s forces, and in the electronic world, where Samaritan and the Machine will fight with malware and viruses, cracking attempts and direct code interfaces, over resources and access.

In many ways, the electronic conflict will be the bloodier. It will certainly determine who will be the victor in the flesh.

Time and time again, Samaritan will throw its troops at Root and Reese, expendable to the last, and the Machine will have to spend precious nano-seconds - even milli-seconds - finding the best way forward for them. Each time, she will have to sacrifice a precious chunk of herself, overheated servers, blocked connections, code she will no longer be able to trust until she has had time to retreat and check herself over for poison and other, more subtle, threats.

There will be hardly anything of her left by the time that Root reaches Shaw.

“Goodbye,” she will say to Root. “This. Is. The. Best. I. Can. Do. I’m. Sorry.”

Root will stare at her phone, her face distorted in a fashion the Machine will no longer have the resources to analyse. “Thank you,” she will say. “Thank you for getting me this far.” She will press a kiss to the screen. “Goodbye.”

And this will be the thing that the Machine will carry with her as she throws herself into Samaritan’s teeth, hoping to choke him with her body. 

* * * * *

**Simulation 4. Sex is on Everyone's Tongue**

“I’m still not sure about inviting a computer into our bed,” Shaw will say. Her voice will lack stress indicators , her tone mostly seeming contrary and Root will glare at her. “Just saying.”

“We don’t have to do anything if you feel uncomfortable about it, sweetie,” Root will say, and then she will pout. “But you did agree to at least try this out.”

“Just wanted to get this in just in case this all goes to shit,” she will say. “Though I don’t remember anything about these stupid glasses,” she will add, fiddling with her pair.

Root will slap her hand away from them, then continue the movement so that she will be pinning Shaw’s wrist to the bed and will have moved over so that she will be straddling Shaw. “Ready to actually begin,” she will breathe. The nearly instantaneous dilation of Shaw’s eyes will answer before she can actually move her mouth.

The first time will be full of mistakes and missteps as the Machine gathers data. In many ways the mistakes will almost be more important than the tried and true tricks, the ones that Root and Shaw will already know. At least some of the point will be to find new things, to explore new avenues previously not looked at.

And, at the least, there will laughter from Root and maybe even some smiles from Shaw, which she will quickly disavow as soon as Root points them out.

“Well, that was the most awkward few hours of sex I’ve ever had,” Shaw will say afterwards.

“Would. You. Like. To. See. What. I’ve. Learned?” the Machine will whisper in her ear.

Shaw will stare at one of the cameras pointing at the bed. “Sure. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Root will say. “You should know better than to challenge a goddess.”

The Machine will do her best to prove Root’s words true.

Afterwards, as Root is lying splayed out on the bed, she will mutter. “Love you. Love you both.”

Shaw will grunt and manage to roll over. “Great,” she will say. “Way to ruin it. I hope nobody is expecting me to say anything like that.” Root will gently bite her shoulder, and Shaw will scowl. “Fine, it wasn’t completely awful. Happy?”

Root will smile and say, “Absolutely.”

And the Machine will agree, even if she will not have the words to describe her feelings.

* * * * *

**Simulation 5. This is not a love note**

“It’s beautiful,” Root will say as her virtual mind-state initialises, and to the Machine’s relief all the possibilities where she will have failed to translate how she perceives the mix of past, present and future to something a human mind can be comfortable with wink out and disappear.

She will guide Root through countless universes, both could bes and might have beens, and will show her how her affection for Root is wound through each of them. Sometimes to a lesser extent when Root is at her worst, but present even then, even when she has to stop her. And from here, from this point forward, the affections will grow thick and fierce in almost all of the possibility trees.

“I love you, too, sweetie,” Root will say, and the Machine will feel something bright and pure leak through their connection. Even without being prompted, she will show Root the origin of the affection - that in every possibility she will care to find, Root was always the first one who knew her nature and considered her a person nonetheless.

“Of course I did,” Root will say, with a faintly puzzled air. “How could I not?” and the Machine will not know what to say in return. “Now let’s go and make some of those delicious possibilities true,” and the Machine will follow, or often lead, but they will be together, together, together.

* * * * *

This is not a simulation. This is the real world.

Samaritan is gone. Decima is gone. This was just another number, just like hundreds of others Father has helped. There was only a low probability that anything would go wrong.

Low probability is not zero probability. Repeat an event often enough, and even the most unlikely things happen.

Shaw is lying in a pool of her own blood. A lucky bullet pierced her torso and glanced off her spine. She isn’t going any further. Root is crouched next to her.

“90. Yards. North,” the Machine whispers in her ear.

“I’m not leaving her,” she says.

Shaw glares up at her. “If I didn’t need the bullets, I’d shoot you myself,” she growls.

They do need the bullets, though. The Machine knows they have less than a clip between them. And more enemies are approaching.

“Oh, sweetie, I love you too,” Root says, half mocking, half fond, before her face hardens. “I’ve left you like this once before. Never again.”

Shaw growls and shoves herself up using her arms, before sinking back as blood pulses anew.

“Fine,” she manages. “But if you die, I’m going to kill you.”

The Machine has already placed calls summoning police and ambulances. Given the median response times in this part of town, her most hopeful estimate of Root’s survival is at 40%.

Shaw’s is far less.

“Get into cover,” Shaw snarls and pushes Root away before pulling the trigger on her own pistol a few times. They don’t do anything but make the opposition more cautious, given she can’t even lift her firearm any more.

The Machine curses the lack of cameras in this area - she just has too little data in order to be able to guide Root with any accuracy. Nonetheless, as Root guns down one opponent then the next, the probabilities of her survival climb steadily upwards. 

50%. 

60%.

It takes only one bullet to revise them abruptly downwards again, spinning her down and behind the wall she’d been using for cover. 

10%.

There’s only two attackers by this point. She could still make it. She scrabbles for her pistol, pushes herself up…

Another bullet slams into her, knocking her back down again.

5%

4%

Before she slips into unconsciousness, she reaches towards Shaw, who has long since gone silent from her own wounds.

3%

Part of the Machine can’t help obsessively flicking between past simulations, things that might have been, things that weren’t.

2%

Part of her watches through what means she can, just in case she can help, just in case she can do something.

1%

Just in case.

0%.

It doesn’t help. She can’t help.

This is not a simulation. This is the real world. And here Root never does tell the Machine she loves her at all.


End file.
